


Rage

by FloreatCastellum



Series: Slice of Life One-Shots [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Family, Five Stages of Grief, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25411258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloreatCastellum/pseuds/FloreatCastellum
Summary: Harry tells Ron about the time he destroyed Dumbledore's office.
Series: Slice of Life One-Shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1344409
Comments: 22
Kudos: 214





	Rage

He kept fussing with the robes, but the collar had such a stupid fiddly button that it was working him up into an agitated, tense mess even before anything happened, his dumb clumsy fingers fumbling over it, unable to get the right angle. At several points he stopped, to try and calm himself, staring at his pale, heavily breathing face in the mirror, knowing that even if he did manage to button it up it would only look stupid. 

He spotted his wand on the dresser, and it didn’t occur to him that he hadn’t left it there, that he had actually chucked it on his bed - his mind was utterly thinking about whether using magic might actually be easier than dealing with his trembling fingers. He reached for it, but no sooner had he pointed it at his neck - it gave a pop and a slight flash of pink. 

He swore at it - he had always been easy with cursing and swearing. Simple words had never seemed, to him, to be much to worry about. But the viciousness of the diatribe that flowed from his mouth as he turned and flung the joke wand across the room surprised even him, and when he saw that Harry had just entered, and had had to smoothly sidestep it so that it didn’t hit him in the face, this infuriated him even more. 

‘Just fuck off!’ he shouted at him. ‘Can’t a man get a moment’s peace in this house?’ 

But Harry glanced down at the joke wand, now a lurid pink flamingo, then back at Ron. He did not leave. 

‘You all right?’ he asked calmly. 

What a stupid fucking question. ‘Fine,’ Ron snarled at him, turning back to the mirror. ‘Never better.’ 

Harry cautiously approached, leaning against the desk pushed up against the wall, and said nothing. 

‘I just can’t get this thing fucking right,’ Ron spat, his voice trembling nearly as much as his fingers were over the button. ‘And then any time you try and do anything in this house, there’s always something stupid like that getting in your way - nothing funny about it anyway.’ 

Harry still said nothing, but the words just kept tumbling out of Ron’s mouth, surprising even him. 

‘You know, you try and be dignified and composed on a day like this, but everywhere you turn there’s a fucking flamingo or a haddock or a punching telescope or something - it’ not right, there should be a bit more - more - I don’t know, it’s not right.’ 

‘I know,’ said Harry quietly. 

‘No, no you don’t know,’ said Ron, his voice almost at a shout. He knew that Harry did know really. ‘It’s been fucking days for everyone to get it out of their system, and now we’re meant to be a bit more grown up about it all, put it all behind us, say goodbye - that’s the point of it all, isn’t it?’

‘It has only been a few days,’ Harry told him gently. ‘It’s normal to still be-’

‘No, no it’s not,’ Ron snapped. ‘It’s not fucking - UGH!’ 

His frustration with the button had reached such a point that he had tugged, hard and uncontrolled, on the collar, and undone the one on the other side too. He screwed up his face, and breathed deeply. He felt Harry step forward, and very cautiously, stand close. He opened his eyes to see Harry very close - his hands at his collar. 

‘There’s no short cut for any of this,’ Harry told him quietly, as he did up the button for him. ‘Or a right way of doing things.’ 

Ron sniffed, and took a shuddering breath, trying to steady himself. ‘I… sorry,’ he blurted out. He felt embarrassed, talking like this to Harry, because they didn’t have that kind of relationship, and Harry always dealt with these things better, so he probably just thought Ron was being pathetic. 

‘Don’t apologise.’ Harry moved to the other button, fixed it, and then returned to leaning on the desk.

Ron couldn’t look at him; he paced frantically, dabbing at his nose with the back of his hand or running it through his hair, his breathing shallow and rapid. Harry still leaned against the desk, watching him calmly. Ron wished he wouldn’t - he wanted him to leave, to stop seeing him like this, to just let him be alone. 

Except he very much did not want to be alone either. 

‘I shouldn’t have thrown that at you.’ 

‘You didn’t know I was coming in,’ Harry replied.

‘Honestly, mate, even if I did, I don’t think that would have stopped me.’ 

To his surprise, Harry smiled slightly. ‘It’s fine,’ he said.

‘It’s not.’ 

‘Course it is - it’s normal.’

‘It’s not, it’s normal to be sad and that, like Mum, not to turn into a - a - an angry - dickhead-’

Harry’s lips twitched again. ‘Can I introduce you to my fifteen-year-old self?’ he asked.

‘That’s different, you shouted a bit, but you didn’t start chucking stuff around,’ muttered Ron. He could now feel his ears burning hot - how ridiculous he must have looked, his collar half undone, flinging a pink flamingo with utter fury. 

‘Hmm,’ said Harry wryly. ‘Wouldn’t be too sure about that. I threw a lot more than a joke wand.’ Ron looked at him dubiously, and Harry’s sardonic smile returned. ‘Trashed up Dumbledore’s office,’ he said. 

Ron gaped at him. ‘Dumbledore’s?’ 

Harry nodded with a hum, his eyes glazing over slightly. ‘Broke all his expensive-looking, spindly little objects. Threw one of those little tables…’ A small, bashful grin came over his face as he focused back on Ron. ‘Came close to throwing the man himself.’ 

‘What did he do?’ asked Ron faintly. 

‘At the time, or to deserve it?’ 

‘Er… At the time?’ said Ron, blinking stupidly. ‘Both?’ 

‘Well, it was just after Sirius… He just… let me rant and rave for a bit,’ said Harry with a shrug. ‘Then sat me down and told me about the prophecy.’ 

Ron gaped at him, and for the first time in a while, his voice sounded normal again. ‘Knew how to kick a man when he’s down, didn’t he?’ 

Harry laughed. ‘Yeah, I s’pose.’ 

Ron looked back at the mirror, his eyes trailing over the black robes, his somber face. ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ he asked vaguely. ‘Me and Hermione? That you did that.’ 

In his peripheral version, he saw Harry looking at him carefully. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you needed help with your collar?’ 

Ron pressed his lips together, trying to stop the burning, watering sensation in his eyes. ‘It all feels so personal… But I want everyone to know. But I don’t want to talk about it… Except I really do.’ He took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘It’s agony.’ 

In the reflection of the mirror, he saw Harry looking back at him, his own eyes watering too. He nodded. ‘Are you ready?’ he asked quietly. 

Ron stared back at him for a few moments, and then nodded too. 

They left together, ready to collect with the rest of Fred’s brothers and lift the coffin onto their shoulders, placing one foot slowly in front of the other.


End file.
